


Regret & Reset

by clueless_nameless



Series: Undertale(s): The Last Reset and Other Lines [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Can be romantic or platonic, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Heavy Angst, Just angst, No Romance, Post-Pacifist Route, References to No Mercy Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clueless_nameless/pseuds/clueless_nameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're above ground, right? So everything should be just fine, right? But nothing is ever "just fine," is it?</p><p>No, it isn't. Because nothing is ever that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret & Reset

**Author's Note:**

> An argument between Frisk and Sans that could have very easily played a part in The Last Reset, but, thankfully, didn't. (Probably could have taken place around chapter 28, because Frisk just wANTS TO SAVE EVERYONE OK)
> 
> This will not be nearly as fluffy as I wanted it to be. In fact, it's mostly lacking in fluff. It's mostly angst. There's actually no fluff. It's just all angst. It's very heavy angst.
> 
> This is a one shot (maybe).

“why can’t you just let things be as they are?!” he wasn’t yelling. He never yelled, but it still hurt to hear the anger in his voice. It hurt you to watch his eyes narrow in rage. It was an anger beneath the surface, a barely controlled frustration. And maybe something more. Maybe something like hate.

He'd never like you; he only tolerated you. He couldn't love you; you'd been full of LOVE too many times to ever be forgiven.

And maybe he was right, maybe you did need to stop resetting every time you made a mistake. Maybe you needed to accept imperfection once in a while. But, it was habit. A bad habit, but a habit nonetheless.

You just wanted them to like you, you didn’t want to hurt any of them, and you didn’t want to let them down. Was it so wrong for you to want to be liked? To be loved? So, naturally, you had always reset, you'd always restarted, when you’d made a mistake. When you’d say something wrong or do something wrong, you’d start the day over, or the week, and you’d try to do it all the _right_ way.

You could never make up for your sins, so at the very least you could make sure they never had to suffer at your hands again.

You just wanted to do things right. Was that so hard to ask?

None of them noticed. They never even knew.

Except for one.

And it frustrated him; it frustrated you. No, it didn't really frustrate you. You were mostly just upset above anything else. Upset that even when you were trying your best to make everyone happy... you were making  _him_ suffer.

The thing was, you weren’t even sure how he knew. But he just _knew_. You'd asked. 

He’d tried to explain it to you, the two of you laying side by side, in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had tried to sound impassive, but he couldn’t keep the coldness from his voice as he explained how he would fall asleep one day and wake up a day or two or three in the past. He’d have the vague feeling like he’d done this before. Like this had all happened before, and, well, you, Frisk, knew it had.

You wished you hadn't asked. You didn't want to know this... You didn't want to hear the acceptance mixed with anger in his voice. You didn't want to hear the hopelessness he felt.

It stabbed you when you heard his frustration. You couldn’t help the tears that sprang to your eyes as you listened to his barely controlled anger. It seemed like he’d been keeping quiet about this since the very beginning. He’d been holding this irritation and hurt in since you were just a child, holding it deep within himself ever since you were small and scared and alone in a world full of monsters.

Maybe he hadn't wanted to burden you with the knowledge. Or maybe he didn't trust you with it. Maybe... maybe he thought you'd finally click that RESET button once you realized what he knew... once you realized he  _knew_ that the you that was with him was the _real_  monster.

He was  _afraid_ of you. Afraid of your power.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered bleakly. He was the only one of all your friends that you were comfortable enough to talk to. But right now, even though you’d spent so much time with him. Even though you trusted him with your life. Even though he'd seen every color of your soul.

It hurt to use your words in front of him.

It made you upset. It made you angry.

You were tired, too. You were tired of this bullshit power and this bullshit life. You were so fucking tired of having this temptation waved in front of you constantly. The temptation of a perfect life.

But it wasn't perfect and it never would be. And that fact made you bitter.

Spite filled your voice as you whispered in response, “I’m sorry that I can’t take back all the times I fucked up everyone’s lives. I’ve done it so many times before. Don’t you think _I_ get tired of fucking everything up?!” Your voice began to gain strength, and you sat up, shrugging off the arm that was wrapped around your shoulders.

You turned to look at him. “I’m sorry I’m such a…” You sniffled, your hazel eyes brimming with tears, “I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up. I'm _sorry_ I'm a  _mistake._ ”

A memory flashed in your mind.

_White dust coating your hands, you feel nothing but anger, there is hate clouding your soul and dulling your mind. Your instincts are as sharp as the knife you held tightly in your dirtied hand._

_He grins, he makes his judgement, he tells you that you are filled with LOVE. But you already know that._

_You just want to show him the shape of your LOVE._

_Dodge, roll, duck down, jump up, slash the knife. His is his turn. Now again, dodge, roll, jump; he was trying to change pace, trying to trick you. You had this dance memorized. One mistake and there was a bone piercing your gut. LOAD SAVE._

_You blink into existence once again. You died? Repeat. Just try again. He'll give up eventually._

_The knife in your hand is as familiar to you as the locket that thrums quietly against your heart. You dance again with him. He moves, he is trying. He is trying way too hard. But it's fruitless, he knows it's useless. Your knife makes contact on his collar bone and he gasps._

_"heh... heh... heh..." His laugh makes you irrationally angry. It is so annoying. He is interesting though. If you try again, won't it end differently?_

_So you do, your curiosity egging you on. He calls you a freak and you shrug your shoulders in agreement. You've killed him too many times to count, so yeah, maybe you were a little bit of a freak. Dirty brother killer? Ha, it is too funny. Too pathetic. He is pathetic. Useless. Lazy. He becomes boring soon too, after all, once you learn the dance, he is merely child's play._

Your words are harsh, your fists clenched. "I am sorry. That's all I will ever be."

You didn’t even bother to look at his expression, instead you only stood quietly, shoulders shaking with a mix of sadness and anger as you left his room. In the doorway you paused, turned and stated, “I won’t do it again, promise.”

It wasn't like you'd asked for this.

Sans could only watch you leave, he could only stare as you quietly shut the door behind you. He couldn’t help but feel disgusted as his guilt crawled upon his back. You’d been through so much trauma, he knew that better than anyone else. He couldn’t even remember all of the timelines that you did. He couldn’t even remember all the ways you’d died again and again.

He barely remembered the times he’d killed you himself. The thought set him at war with himself. His stomach, or lack of stomach, squirmed in discomfort. He was a bit of a sadist, that he knew, and he could remember the intense feeling of pleasure as he destroyed your soul again and again. He remembered the manic grin that lit his face as you came back after each death, a spark of fear and frustration growing in your eyes because you knew this fight was futile.

He remembered the times he’d never met Toriel, she’d never asked him to protect you, and he remembered killing you the moment you stepped from the Ruins, bright eyed and bushy tailed only to die a second later.

He knew that the resets hurt you just as much as they hurt him. He knew it wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed. He knew you didn’t ask for the power. So why couldn’t he have just calmly asked you to stop? Why had he felt the need to blame you so angrily for them?

They were frustrating, sure, but he shouldn't blame you... it wasn't your fault. It wasn't  _you_.

You were trying your best to please everyone, so what if he had to feel deja-vu every once in a while? As long as you didn't go all the way back, it would be okay, right?

“geez, kid… i… i was a real… numbskull, wasn’t i?” he chuckled softly, yet the sadness in his eyes didn’t leave. He would have to find you, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to face you. There weren’t many people that could make him feel so guilty so quickly. There weren’t many people he’d actually want to apologize for.

He wished he’d grabbed your hand and pulled you down next to him. He wished he’d held you closer when you’d started to tear up. He wished he’d realized that every timeline that affected him only affected you ten times worse.

He felt like an ass for being so selfish.

Besides, the resets weren’t that bad. It was annoying sometimes, it gave him a jolt of anxiety to think that maybe one day you’d give up and he’d end up back underground with only a vague memory of what the surface might be like. But it was almost cute, too, watching you try so hard to make everyone happy. Watching you grow up and mature and still hold the same values you’d held as a child. Watching you support everyone full heartedly.

He figured he’d let you stew for a moment.

Part of him wanted to search frantically for you, part of him hoped you’d come back and resume cuddling.

No part of him could have guessed what was running through your mind.

The cold night sky was just as unwelcoming as the house you currently sat in front of. You’d wanted to charge off into the darkness. You’d wanted to run until you couldn’t run. But you were sad, and there was something about being sad that just drained at your energy. You hadn’t the strength to stand anymore. All you could do was sit and think miserable, selfish thoughts.

Sans and you had discussed the timelines before. He’d told you that there were many, many, many timelines. He never was specific, and you guessed that was because he barely knew what they consisted of either. He did remember his interactions with you fairly clearly, though he’d never be forward with what exactly happened between your alternate versions. He’d mentioned that you guys had made it the surface once before, though he never explained why it was that you’d reset.

 _He probably hated you. You were worthless and selfish all those years. He only puts up with you because he’s afraid you will reset again. You only have your friends because they’re afraid._ Again, tears came tumbling forth, making slow trails down your pale cheeks to drip sadly off your chin and land on your jeans. _You were just so useless. You only made Sans worry. You only made him angry. He only tolerated you because he knew that if you were upset you might ruin his life._

_He didn’t love you._

You weren’t sure where the thought came from. Love? It seemed so strange. He could never love you. You were the real monster. You were the one who dangled hope in front of his eyes, only to snatch it away time and time again. He could never love someone like you. Your petty crush seemed pointless. It was useless. And he probably laughed at it when you weren’t looking. He could probably tell by how you clung to his every word, how you watched him often from the corner of your eye, how you always managed to find yourself sitting just a little bit closer to him than just-friends would.

_He would never return your feelings. He hated you. He hated your power._

You felt hopeless. Shakily, you stood, and with a heavy heart, you ran.

Sans sat up abruptly.

Something felt wrong.

Something was very wrong.

His only thought was of you and your crying face when you'd left. Had he pushed you to try and reset? To try and play this “game” over again? He couldn’t help the frustration he felt as he started to move from his bed.

You probably hoped if you started over he would forget this conversation. In all honestly, he probably would. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't do this again. It was too much.

He had to find you, he had to stop you.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them once more he was in the darkness. Snow was swirling down and around him, the ground already had collected about an inch’s worth. You shouldn’t be outside, he realized, you weren’t even in the proper clothing.

You’d freeze. He had to find you.

You stumbled through the snow, your bare feet numb to the cold. There weren’t many people out and about, and most of the cars you’d seen were going so slow it seemed as though they weren’t even moving. You ran toward town. You thought that perhaps if you stumbled up to a bar, you could perhaps get a drink or two to calm your emotions. Maybe you could settle yourself there and someone that might take you home.

The bar was warm and you waved a shaky hello to Grillby. No one questioned your messy outfit nor your lack of shoes. No one questioned your puffy red eyes or the tears making their slow crawl down your face. No one here hated you. No one here questioned you.

No one really even  _knew_ you, so it was okay. This was okay. You sat at the counter, the barstool creaking as you spun around in it once, your legs swinging lazily. A glowing blue elemental of some sort came by and greeted you. The words sounded empty to your ears but you ignored it.

You must have mumbled something in response, but you didn't really notice what you'd asked for, you felt so disconnected from the present moment. A glass half filled with ice was set in front of you. You picked it up, doing your best not to breath in the sharp smell as you downed the drink.

It burned your throat, but you didn't mind the feeling. You waved the bartender over and gestured to the drink lazily. As an afterthought you brought you hand to your lips and waved it out, signing your thanks.

Another drink placed in front of you and you downed it again. Really, you shouldn't be doing that, it wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

Someone had their hand on your back, had they been there long? They were towering over you, and you were slumped in the barstool, leaning heavily on the counter. His words were smooth and his voice a deep rumble.

Were you responding correctly? Your mind was too filled with haze. He was saying something to you, then he was saying something to the bartender. The girl, bless her soul, seemed to question him slightly, gesturing to you briefly. You waved at her with a dopey smile on your face.

His voice sounded more gruff and the bartender folded. A drink was placed in front of him, another in front of you. You grabbed it and sniffed it. Smelled bad. Was probably bad. But to you, all alcohol was bad.

His thumb was rubbing small circles into your lower back, it felt nice. You weren't sure if you should be upset or not. Should you be pushing him away? Wasn't this not... wasn't this not normal? This wasn't okay, right?

But you couldn't bring yourself to stop him from sitting beside you, you couldn't stop yourself from taking another drink, nor from the shy smiles you kept giving him.

Some part of your brain was telling you this was a bad idea. But another side of you was just bitterly happy that for once... just for once... someone  _wanted_ you. Someone thought  _you_ were  _desirable._

He watched you enter the bar. He’d found you finally, you must have ran all the way into town. It’d taken him a while to follow your trail, but once he figured out where you were headed, all he had to do was wait. Something still didn’t feel right about this. He’d always been fairly in tune to your feelings. Something felt very wrong. You weren’t coming out. He held his breath. He couldn’t rush in there, it’d only make things worse, you’d probably just be angry with him. You’d probably be mad if he caused a scene.

After what seemed like hours, although it very well could have been mere minutes, you left, a rosy tint to your cheeks. A man followed you out, a hand pressed possessively on your back. Sans couldn’t help the flash of blue in his eye, nor the rise of his own jealousy. You didn’t know about the other timeline. The one that went so well. The one where Sans finally had you to himself. The one where you’d said the words he’d waited countless times with baited breath for you to say.

But you reset. And he didn’t know why. And it hurt. It hurt him so badly. To have you in his arms one second then to wake up to a special kind of hell all over again. To have to sit and watch you, the younger you, struggle and work to free the monsters once more.

He’d been distanced from you this time, he didn’t want to hurt again like he had. Yet, somehow, as always, he felt a certain sense of love for you. He couldn’t stand by as you were again and again attacked.

He always watched out for you.

He just wanted you to sit with him again.

He wanted you to be the you of the other timeline.

So, yes, of course he had frustration when it came to your constant resets. Of course he was hurt. What had he done wrong to make you leave him? What had he done to make you decide that timeline wasn’t good enough? Did you not truly love him?

It had hurt. He’d just wanted you to understand his frustration, yet as he’d explained to you what the feelings of deja-vu were like, he couldn’t keep the pure anger from his voice. Instead of calmly telling you, and asking you if you could remember why you’d left him. He’d been filled with spite. His words were daggers, and you, you and your fragile soul were left vulnerable to his cutting words.

You giggled, but it felt hollow. The man who now had his arm around your thin waist was a good foot and a half taller than you. It made you feel small, petite, and light. But it also made you feel worried. Why had you done this, exactly? To feel wanted?

Slurred, you told him that maybe you’d better just go home. Maybe it’d be best if you could walk home by yourself. But he’d gotten angry when you said that, and he pushed you into the wall. Scared, now, you tried to duck under him and run, but he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer.

His sneer was frightening. You were so scared, but you were determined to escape. When his grip loosened you pushed him back and stumbled away, ignoring his curses.

Sans could only watch, shaking in anger. Burning with jealousy.

You didn’t even notice that Sans followed you as you stumbled home.

Just like you didn’t notice the headlights as they came veering toward you.

It figured that walking home from the bar was going to be dangerous. It figured that some dumb person would drunkenly try to drive themselves home in the snow storm.

What you didn’t figure was the pain you’d feel as the car impacted with your soft human body.

You didn’t account for the whiplash you’d feel as your head snapped forward then back, nor the pain as your now limp body flew into the ground. It was too quick for you to react. It was too fast for you to even know what happened.

The last thought on your mind was Sans’ worry filled face as he kneeled beside you, whispering something. The only words you could catch were “reset,” and “please.” He was right, you couldn’t live forever. Maybe it was just your time.

At least now he didn’t have to fear you.


End file.
